


Death Will be Their Acquisition

by Tenely



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 15:52:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13791036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tenely/pseuds/Tenely
Summary: “Don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.” with that, he turned on his heel to exit the scene.As he retreated, Will managed to catch the murmur that Lecter let out under his breath, too quiet  for human ears to pick up.“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”AU in which Will is a vampire who’s sworn off eating people and Hannibal is a human who’s made no such promise of the sort.





	Death Will be Their Acquisition

“ _Ouch_. Fuck. _Fuck, fuck fuck_.”

__Will clutched his hand back to his chest, hissing profanity as the stick went hurtling back out into the field in front of his house and a white-hot pain searing at his hand. He looked down and slowly opened his clenched fist, wincing at the sight of his fingers. It usually healed fast, but it never looked pretty._ _

__His dogs came back, Ellie with the stick held proudly between her teeth. He grinned down at her took it with his left hand, keeping his right curled gingerly inward._ _

__Still using his left hand, he threw the stick one last time, this time careful to keep the arc of his arm from going past the line of shade that extended a few feet beyond his porch roof in the early morning sunshine, and a mass of fur went racing past him once again._ _

__Pain aside, this was the type of moment where he always felt the most at peace. Right after casting the weight of the stick out into the universe, when he only had to sit back, take in his dogs’ unrestrained joy at the chase, and wait for everything to come back around all over again. There was an easy equilibrium to it — a self-contained cycle that he could relax into for a few moments each day, usually after a long day or before his drive to the Academy._ _

__The dogs raced back, Winston in the lead. He’d gotten the stick this time, and Will scratched enthusiastically around his ears with his good hand in congratulations as he took it back from the dog._ _

__“I think that’s enough for today, everyone.” he announced, checking the time on his phone and hoping that he’d be okay to hold a steering wheel within the next twenty minutes. He debated bandaging his hand to speed things up for a fleeting moment, but dismissed the thought almost immediately._ _

__Back in Louisiana, he’d always been the type of person to have an emergency kit in his bathroom and another in his car. A childhood of fishing and fixing engines had taught him to take injury to himself in stride, to respond to it in others with a cool and practical head even though he could feel their pain reverberate through himself — an attitude that’d come in handy as a cop. But there hadn’t been much need for one the past couple of years. He still kept one around, mostly out of habit, and it sometimes came in handy when he’d stumble across strays or when one of his own dogs got reckless around a fox or coyote._ _

__As the raw, wrinkled skin of his burnt hand smoothed before his eyes, Will ushered the dogs back inside. He glanced towards the kitchen, debating if he had the time or inclination to feed, as his phone chirped to life from his pocket. It was a text from Jack._ _

_cancel your AM class. Need you in the field ASAP. Have someone to introduce you to_

__Seconds later, an address popped onto his screen. Will shot off a one line email to his class, his mouth set in a grim line. If the scene was active he’d have to feed before showing up._ _

__Will had already put this off for a few days already, but he hadn’t realized how famished he was until he opened his refrigerator door. His fangs slid out at the sight of its contents on instinct, and he couldn't suppress a slight tremor in his hand as he reached slowly for a blood bag._ _

__There was really no dignified way to do this, but of the three main options for consumption (A: tearing into the bag teeth-first like plenty of younger and edgier vampires preferred, B: using the built-in straw as though he was drinking a gothic Capri Sun, or C: dumping the bag’s contents into a chipped mug that used to hold coffee once upon a time) he generally opted for the third._ _

__He still hadn’t gotten used to that first moment when he drank — when the complex flavor, never quite the same, hit his tongue. How it ushered in the ghosts of alien emotions that shot through his head, too quick and vague to make anything out in particular. The figures that darted around at the corners of his vision. The outlines of foreign memories. He tipped the mug back in one fluid motion, knocking its contents back like a shot and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand._ _

__“That should be enough” he announced to the empty kitchen. He rinsed the mug out, eyes following the red swirl that traced around and around the drain before disappearing, and placed it back into a cabinet._ _

He grabbed the large grey umbrella that was propped next to his front door on the way out, unfurling it in the safety of his porch’s shade. _Can’t believe I keep singeing myself out here like this_ , he thought. 

__He could always use the awning that he was issued when he’d moved here, if he wanted to hang it again. He’d only kept it up for a little over a week after he’d first gotten it. It had blocked his porch off from the surrounding world like a veil, far denser than mosquito netting (himself being the mosquito in that analogy, he supposed) and just opaque enough to tint the fields around into a drab sea of blue-gray._ _

__He’d torn them down in a delirious fit after not sleeping for almost 72 hours, desperate to see sunlight, to anchor himself in time, and gotten a series of nasty burns on his forearms and face for the lapse in judgement. They’d healed within hours. The curtains he’d been given, made of the same material, were still up inside the house. But he couldn’t bring himself to cover the porch again. It made it impossible to play fetch in the mornings._ _

He made a path to his car, awkwardly maneuvering his umbrella to cover him until he was inside and protected by its dark-tinted windows. Texting Jack a quick _On my way_ , he drove off, house receding into the distance until it floated on the horizon line like small dinghy at sea, until it disappeared entirely. 

__——-_ _

__A series of rapid-fire metallic clicks of camera shutters reverberated off the bathroom’s narrow walls as a group of crime techs stepped carefully around the circumference of the ornate claw-foot bathtub to document it from every angle. The room was pristine around its edges — undisturbed rows of skincare and cosmetics in luxe, minimalistic packaging lining the countertop that wrapped around three of its lengthy walls, framing the mass of gore at its center. Will’s nose twitched at the smell of it._ _

__He felt, rather than heard, Jack walk up besides him,“Shelley Ayers, one of Baltimore’s most acclaimed interior designers. Two identical puncture wounds in the neck, drained of blood, and missing her upper intestinal tract.” Crawford recited, “ Obviously someone from your neck of the woods, but any insight beyond that would be appreciated. Namely, on the organ removal.” he took a step back and called out for the scene to be cleared._ _

__Will nodded, brushing off the furtive looks he could feel himself receiving as the techs left the room — particularly the way one women kept glancing rapid-fire between him and the ornate mirrors that stretched up and around the walls above the countertops._ _

__Shelley Ayers’s blood and limbs spilled out over the rim of her bathtub, her dark hair framing a grey-white face that stared up into infinity. A plush bathrobe sporting heavy stains, likely placed back into its original position for Will’s benefit, concealed a torso that was missing roughly twenty feet of intestine._ _

__The ambient sounds of the scene faded from Will’s mind as Mrs. Ayers’ blood flowed back into her body and the flesh of her abdomen resealed itself like clay._ _

_I wait until she is relaxed and unaware here, not because I worry that I cannot subdue her but because it amuses me to do so. I tear into her and take time to enjoy the sublime aesthetic contrast of her blood against white tile. After I take what I want, I retie her bathrobe, and then I stand here for a long time to watch the blood thicken and cool around her, knowing exactly how much time I have before she will be found. This is my design._

__Missing organs. Unusual to take anything besides blood from human prey, but not unheard of. But something wasn’t sitting right._ _

_The staging._

__As he returned from wherever — whoever — is was that he had just been, a faint tremor ran through Will’s voice like the fading reverberation of a recently-struck bell._ _

__“Not one of mine, Jack.”_ _

__“Not from the Baltimore scene? Someone’s crossing territorial lines to hunt prey?”_ _

__Will shook his head, tearing his eyes from the corpse to look at a live body for the first time since he’d set foot in the bathroom._ _

__“Let me be more specific. One of yours.”_ _

__Crawford’s eyebrows knit together in confusion and concern at the implication. “Do you seriously mean to tell me that whoever did this wasn’t a vampire? We’re looking for a human?”_ _

__“Yes. And no. Whoever this is, he’s human in the biological sense and totally inhuman in the philosophical. Or at least, he likes to think of himself in those terms.”_ _

__“So a vampire wannabe.” Jack sighed. This wouldn’t be the first._ _

__“Not exactly. He doesn’t want to be a vampire in particular. He wanted to kill Ms. Ayers to humiliate her, and because he felt he had the right to, because he’s something more than her. He may feel some abstract kinship with the supernatural, but not even trying particularly hard to pass this off as a vampire kill.”_ _

__“How so?” Crawford asked as Will began to pace around the tub in slow circles._ _

__“He stood here,” Will pointed to a spot the room’s center, “to watch her blood dry against the tub’s rim. No vampire stupid or desperate enough to break the Covenant would be able to stop themselves before they drained her dry, and nobody powerful enough to break it without worrying about the consequences would have closed her robe like that afterwords._ _

__“Because they wouldn’t care about her modesty?” asked Jack, his eyes following Will’s path around the room._ _

__“They wouldn’t care about the body, period. Not once they’d drained it.”_ _

__Will gestured around the room, “Plus, there are the mirrors. They’re either incredibly expensive or very old, likely both. I know because I can’t see myself in them.”_ _

__“Meaning that they’re backed with silver.” Jack supplied._ _

__“He chose to do this here because of them. He could watch himself kill her infinitely, stretching out in all directions. And being able to see himself do so made him feel superior to the monsters who couldn’t. He likely disdains the kind of bloodlust that can’t keep itself in check, sees it as animal. He values control. It could be years before he strikes again, if he ever does.”_ _

__Jack visibly tensed at that last sentence. Will turned from the mirror to look at him._ _

__“I’ve said that about the Ripper, I know. But it isn't necessarily him.”_ _

__“Do you think there’s a chance it could be?”_ _

__Will paused for a long moment, reluctant to say what he’d felt since entering the building._ _

__“It’s not impossible.” he finally admitted._ _

__Jack’s solemn nod before he turned briskly to go make a call was as good of a dismissal as Will was likely to get._ _

__But as Will turned to leave the scene, he came abruptly face to face with one of the crime techs from earlier, the woman who had noticed his lack of reflection. Her arms were casually crossed against her chest and she leaned against the doorframe in a way that made the space impossible to pass through non-awkwardly, a single eyebrow was pointedly raised in Will’s direction._ _

__“So, you a creature of the night? I’m glad we’re being less draconian and actually hiring you guys now.” she asked with an intrigued but not-unkind grin._ _

__“Technically you’re not. I’m just a consultant.” he replied, downcast eyes focused somewhere in the negative space around her._ _

__“Huh. Well, baby steps I guess. Glad to have you around. Plus, not to be weird towards a coworker, but I find your guys’ physiology fascinating. If you ever have an extra copy of your dental records floating around and want to do a girl a solid I’d love to take a look. Name’s Beverly Katz.” she announced as she held out her hand._ _

__Will hesitated, and then took it._ _

__“Wow that’s not as cold as the usual corpses I see, you feed recently?” she asked as she pumped his arm up and down._ _

__Before he had to formulate a response to that, Will heard his name being called from the next room over and took the opportunity to sweep past Beverly with a muttered nice meeting you that he wasn't quite sure if he’d meant or not._ _

Inappropriately blunt as Agent Katz had been, it was a little refreshing not to be treated with kid gloves or to have the fact he was, biologically speaking, dead carefully tiptoed around or dressed up in vague, polite euphemism like it was by most of his colleagues. _He teaches night classes_ was the typical thing his students would say to peers when they thought he couldn’t hear, accompanied by a waggling of eyebrows and suggestive tone of voice. That one annoyed him in particular because it wasn’t even true. He had multiple class sections and only _one_ of them was in a 7-10 slot. 

__He was snapped out of his brief reflection on misleading popular conceptions of vampiric relationships to daylight by an alarming visual combination of plaid-on-plaid._ _

__The man next to Jack was standing with a casual confidence and collection that few civilians would be able to muster at an active crime scene, but wasn’t dressed in the typical serious, muted colors of a Bureau affiliate either. His eyes were fixed on Will. Will’s found themselves focused somewhere in the air between him and Jack._ _

__Jack cleared his throat, “Will, this is the man I mentioned on the phone earlier. Dr. Hannibal Lecter, esteemed psychiatrist. I’m taking on as another consultant in an unofficial capacity.”_ _

__Will nodded his acknowledgement, bringing his eyes briefly up to meet Lecter’s. They were impassive, intelligent. Shrewd. Deep brown._ _

__“You have trouble with eye contact.” the man stated._ _

__“Hyper-empathy.” Will stated just as plainly. He would probably be more taken aback by that one if he hadn’t just had a stranger ask for his dental records. “Ever since childhood, always had trouble with how much information the eyes carry. Micro-expressions and colors and so on. And the learned social nicety of knowing where and how to look at someone, and for how long. Much easier to just avoid all of it. And all that went into overdrive once I was turned. Speaking of which, I also have trouble with direct sunlight.”_ _

__“You use your vampiric status to downplay your empathy.” Lecter leveled at him, “Tell me Will, which aspect of yourself do you consider the more monstrous of the two?”_ _

__Will froze. He looked up at Jack, and then back to Lecter, and then back at Jack._ _

__“What exactly.” Will paused to take a deep breath, a residual habit from back when he needed air, “is he consulting on, Jack?”_ _

__“Now Will, Doctor Lecter has published a number of fascinating pieces on theoretical retromortem psychology. You’re a unique and unprecedented asset to the Bureau, and you need to be treated as such. This is for your own good.” the gentle timbre of Jack’s voice reminded Will too much of his own when he needed to coax a stray over to him. It had the opposite effect as intended._ _

__“I’ve done plenty for the Bureau without being reduced to a science project or requiring a babysitter.”_ _

__Will turned to Lecter, locking his eyes on the other man’s._ _

__“Don’t psychoanalyze me. You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.” with that, he turned on his heel to exit the scene._ _

__As he retreated, Will managed to catch the murmur that Lecter let out under his breath, too quiet for any of the human ears at the scene to pick up._ _

__“I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Wow I made this account like three years ago and this is the first time I'm posting anything to it. Vampires haven't been cool for a hot minute but they'll always be cool in my heart
> 
> Title is from [Raining Blood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4PWgA3PI7VQ) by Tori Amos (which I just learned was originally a Slayer song? What an unlikely but amazing combination of artists)


End file.
